


Would You Cast Me To The Wayside

by lily_rainn



Series: LilyRainn does Aroaceing the Line 2021 [6]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Bondage, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Miscommunication, Sex-Repulsed Character, Undefined Relationship, these boys won't talk to each other!!!! idiots!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_rainn/pseuds/lily_rainn
Summary: Day 6:Love-Sex-Experimentation-Dark GreenWilde and Zolf are finally starting to settle into something comfortable, not something with a name yet, but also not something they have to tiptoe around the edge of.Chapter 1 can be read as an (M-rated) stand-alone if you don’t want explicit content! See the notes for more info.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Series: LilyRainn does Aroaceing the Line 2021 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177520
Comments: 28
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MorganAfterDark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganAfterDark/gifts), [gaymelie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaymelie/gifts).



> Chapter 1 has discussion of sex, kink, and physical intimacy (as well as one attempt to instigate sex with someone who’s had alcohol), but no explicit content. Chapter 2 is where yall can get your smut!
> 
> This is technically canon-divergent now, as it’s set in a universe where they just hop back on the airship after the events of 177. Zolf is repulsed by certain sexual acts but not others in this fic, and his relationship with Wilde is left very up to interpretation.
> 
> The title is from Doomed by Moses Sumney.
> 
> EDIT: In this fic, Wilde and Zolf are both unfamiliar with the concept of asexuality and don't have the vocab or understanding that the modern reader might have. They both use the word "normal" to refer to allo behaviour and make other unintentionally aphobic slip-ups, so please be aware of that before reading. Thanks aunt_zelda for the feedback on this!

It’s a quiet night, and the world is stretched out far below the Vengeance as Wilde stands on deck and looks over the side, keeping an ear out for the steady thrum of the engines. It’s been a while since the crash, and he and Zolf are finally starting to settle into something comfortable, not something with a name yet, but also not something they have to tiptoe around the edge of. It’s more natural for them to spend time together, to _talk_. Zolf is learning to be honest in a way that Wilde knows is difficult for him, and Wilde in turn is trying to get accustomed to leaning on someone, to letting Zolf carry a little of the weight. It’s not easy, but both of them are getting there.

Physically, they’re different too. Wilde, for all his tendency to show off, suspects Zolf wouldn’t appreciate affection where the rest of the crew might see it. But there’s the occasional arm around each, a touch on the arm or the shoulder as a constant reminder of the other’s presence and company. Even when they’re not actually touching, they’re looking to each other, leaning towards each other, more relaxed in each other’s space. In private, there have been kisses, and Wilde isn’t shy about how much he enjoys those. They’ve shared a bed a couple of times, but never more than just sleeping next to each other, with Zolf’s arm slung over Wilde’s waist and his head pillowed against Wilde’s shoulder, and it only ever happens on nights when one or both of them has had a drink.

Nights like tonight, it seems.

Zolf crosses the deck with his usual heavy steps, but without turning round Wilde can hear that he’s weaving slightly from side to side. With a small smile, Wilde turns to see Zolf with a bottle in his hand and a thick winter cloak around his shoulders.

“You’re out late this evening, Zolf,” Wilde says as he watches him approach.

Zolf shrugs a little. “Finished my shift. Wanted a drink. What about you?” He’s not as drunk as Wilde had first suspected – if he’s been on shift, this is probably his first drink, and most of his stumbling is simply tiredness. Wilde pats the railing invitingly, and Zolf joins him looking out over the side of the ship. He rests his head against Wilde’s arm, and takes a slow swig of his drink.

Wilde doesn’t answer the question at first, just looking down at where Zolf’s hair touches his sleeve, where the thick fur of Zolf’s cloak presses softly against his elbow. Zolf is warm against his side, and Wilde suddenly wonders how he’d been fighting off the chill without Zolf’s body heat beside him.

“Enjoying the view,” he says at last. “And the quiet. It’s so busy in the day. Can’t get a moment to myself.”

Zolf huffs slightly and shifts away from him. “Well, ‘m sorry to disturb your solitude.”

“You didn’t,” Wilde says quickly, and reflexively his arm moves around Zolf to pull him close again. He doesn’t need to look down to know that Zolf is smiling.

They stand together and look out across the landscape for a while, sometimes in companionable silence and sometimes talking about nothing in particular – Zolf’s latest attempts at cooking with their slowly depleting supplies, and Wilde’s ideas to rebuild the bow bar (an ongoing project, it keeps him busy). Neither of them talks about the mission. That’s one of the unspoken rules – that whatever _this_ is, it stays separate from the work. One day, there’s going to be a conflict there, Wilde knows, and he isn’t sure what’ll happen when that day comes. For now, they don’t talk about it.

Eventually, Zolf’s head starts to nod, and he can’t stifle his yawns. Wilde pulls him a little closer and says, “Time for you to get some sleep, I think,” and they both head to Wilde’s cabin without discussing it.

They lie together in the dark, Zolf pressed against Wilde’s side, and Wilde leans down slightly to press a gentle kiss to Zolf’s hair. He treasures these moments, really does, but he does wonder sometimes if there’ll ever be the intimacy he’s used to sharing in his bed. He’s allowed himself a fantasy or two, but it never seems like the right time to ask.

Maybe he should ask now.

It’s a stupid idea, but Zolf is here, in his bed, isn’t he? Tipsy enough not to panic, but still sober enough not to agree to anything he’d regret tomorrow. And Wilde won’t take it too far. Just a question….

Curiously, Wilde places a gentle hand on Zolf’s hip, and slowly slides it down towards the inside of his thigh.

In a movement quicker than Wilde thought he was capable of right now, Zolf grabs his hand and moves it back up sharply. Zolf doesn’t shift away, and he keeps a tight hold of Wilde’s hand, but he does say blearily, “No. Thank you.”

Wilde accepts and squeezes Zolf’s hand in an apology, and silence closes over them again. A few times, Zolf inhales like he’s about to say something, but the breaths never quite manage to become words. Finally, Wilde hears Zolf drift off to sleep, snoring gently, and eventually Wilde follows.

* * *

The next morning, they wake to the news that Azu’s spotted a storm heading their way. It’s nothing they can’t deal with, but enough that Zolf is kept busy preparing the ship and the crew for when it hits, and when Wilde does get to see him it’s strictly business only. The storm reaches them in the afternoon, but it’s early the next morning before Wilde and Zolf, both soaked and exhausted, stagger back to their separate beds to grab a few hours of sleep.

The evening after that, as Wilde sits at his desk and scribbles idly in a notebook, Zolf knocks on his cabin door. He recognises Zolf’s knock by now, and calls “Come in!” without thinking about it.

Zolf opens the cabin door, but he doesn’t come further than the doorway. “Hey,” he says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Wilde is still getting accustomed to. “Can we – uh – talk?”

“By all means,” Wilde says, trying to keep his demeanour even. He already knows it must be about his mistake the other night. Is Zolf angry at him? “Sit down, close the door behind you.”

It’s not until Zolf is already in the room that Wilde realises the only chair in the small cabin is already taken, so Zolf has no choice but to sit on the bed. But there’s no way to move now without making it even more awkward, so he just watches as Zolf hops up onto the bed and sits there, with his hands clasped in his lap. After a few moments of silence, Zolf says, “So. How are you doing?”

Wilde frowns at him sternly. “Don’t dance around it, Zolf. You came here to say something in particular. That’s not it, is it?”

“No. No, it ain’t.” Zolf sighs, and his shoulders slump. So, not angry. Surely…. Surely, he doesn’t feel _guilty_ about this?

Wilde starts to say, “Zolf, it’s absolutely fine, you don’t need to-” at the same time as Zolf says, “I think maybe I upset y-”. They both break off, and after a moment of staring at each other, Wilde gestures for Zolf to speak first.

The way Zolf repeats the words with exactly the same intonation makes Wilde think he’s rehearsed it. “I think maybe I upset you the other night when I told you to stop – touching me. I don’t know, but I reckon maybe I was a bit sharp? So, I wanted to say I’m sorry and that you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t upset me or anything. I know you’ve got certain stuff you expect from people when it comes to – this kind of thing, and if I disappointed you, then I’m – sorry. Yeah. That’s a – now you know, so. Yeah, that.”

Wilde lets Zolf run out of steam and trail into silence, and then smiles at him softly. “Zolf, you don’t have to apologise. You didn’t do anything wrong. No, listen to me-” he adds, because Zolf is already opening his mouth to interrupt. “I didn’t expect anything. I just asked a question. And you gave an answer. We’re both still working out what’s happening here, so let’s just leave it at that. You’re not interested in doing that sort of thing with me. Noted, let’s move on.”

“It’s not that I’m not interested in _you_!” Zolf says, quicker than he might have meant to, and then blushes furiously. In a moment of inappropriate self-indulgence, Wilde thinks that the flush of colour on Zolf’s face rather suits him, and then he furiously presses the thought down. “I’m just not – good with being touched like that. Never have been. Makes me feel all – I don’t know. Weird. I don’t get how people like it.”

“Then you don’t have to do it,” Wilde says patiently. “I don’t want you to do things you don’t like, Zolf. Do you mind if I-?” Wilde stands, and approaches the bed cautiously, indicating that he’d like to sit. Zolf shifts his weight and nods, and Wilde sits down. He leaves a few inches between them this time, in case Zolf needs the space, but Zolf is the one who reaches across the gap to rest his hand on Wilde’s arm.

There’s another short silence, before Zolf says, “You know it’s not about you, right? It’s not that you aren’t…. you know. Good lookin’, or anything. Of course you are, you bloody know that you are.”

“Oh, I know,” Wilde says, trying to make light of the situation. “It takes a little more than this to knock an ego like mine, Zolf.”

Wilde laughs, but Zolf still looks tense. The words come out in a slightly panicked tumble. “Yeah, obviously. Obviously, you look great. I just –it doesn’t matter how good someone looks, I just can’t deal with - hands on me, you know? Sometimes people are nice to look at, and sometimes there’s even stuff I-” He’s bright red now, but Wilde doesn’t think Zolf could stop talking if he wanted to. “-stuff I want to do. But not stuff I want them to do to me. That make sense?”

“Unfortunately, I’m a deeply selfless and generous lover,” Wilde quips, with a wide grin.

“Bloody show-off, more like,” Zolf mumbles, and Wilde laughs.

“That too, I suppose,” he says lightly. “Either way, I can see why you think we’d be… especially incompatible. You might need to tie me up or something. I’m joking,” he adds quickly, because for a moment Zolf’s shoulders go tense, his eyes go wide, and something like panic flashes across his features. “Definitely joking, Zolf.” That was probably a stupid thing to say. Jokes about bondage right after Zolf confessed he doesn’t like sex? Genius, Wilde.

Zolf shakes his head and the alarmed expression is gone instantly, replaced with a smile. “S’alright. It’s fine. You can joke. I’m just glad that you’re not upset with me.”

“Nor you with me,” Wilde says, and they both relax as the tension in the room dissipates. They’ve both said it plainly now. No-one’s angry. They can carry on as they are. Zolf stays and chats a little longer before retreating to his own cabin to sleep. Wilde lies in his bed that night and stares at the ceiling and tries very hard not to think of the way that blush had crossed Zolf’s face, and the way his own hands might feel tied with strong sailor’s rope.

* * *

It would be easy enough if that were the end of it, but it isn’t. It just keeps coming up again, never explicit enough for them to talk about but always on the edge of Wilde’s mind. The next day, as Zolf potters in the kitchen preparing dinner, Wilde is with him, dipping his finger into various dishes to try them, “helping” Zolf by playfully moving knives and ingredients, until at last Zolf jokingly blurts out, “For goodness sake, can’t you keep your hands to yourself for five minutes!”

Silence falls over the kitchen. Wilde thinks immediately of the bondage joke he absolutely should not have made the night before. Zolf’s smile looks forced, and Wilde thinks he’s probably thinking of the same thing. Zolf tries to keep his voice light, but it still sounds strained as he says, “It’s nearly ready, why don’t you go and let everyone who’s not on shift know?”

Wilde scuttles out of the kitchen, awkward and embarrassed.

The day after that, Wilde is on deck, once again working on the bar (which the storm had mostly demolished) and finds himself distracted for a moment as he considers a few practical improvements Cel had recommended. When his attention focuses again, he realises he’s been staring across the deck at Zolf. Zolf, who is at this moment winding a substantial length of rope into a coil. Those large, steady hands move in rhythmic motions along the rope, feeding it through sturdy fingers, and Wilde is staring.

He looks away suddenly, but it’s too late. Zolf has seen and seems to be glaring daggers at him. That blush has appeared on his face again. Wilde quickly turns his back and busies himself with rearranging bottles that don’t need it, feeling his own face go red in turn.

Wilde isn’t surprised when Zolf yet again appears at his cabin door that evening.

“Right,” Zolf says gruffly, stepping in as soon as Wilde opens the door. “We ain’t doing this, Wilde. We’re gonna talk about this. Properly. Cos if the fact I won’t fall into bed with you is going to be a problem, I’d like to know. So come on. Spit it out.” He steps in and Wilde stares at him, bewildered. He barely remembers to close the door behind him, but they don’t need the whole ship hearing this.

“It’s – It’s not a problem, Zolf,” he says carefully. Zolf is standing in the middle of the room, taking deep, measured breaths, tension rolling off him in waves. Wilde doesn’t know what to say to placate him. He doesn’t like to be lost for words. “I already told you that it’s fine. I don’t want anything that you’re not happy to give me.”

“Is that right?” Zolf says, raising a sceptical eyebrow. “Because you’re really not subtle. You can’t take your eyes off me the past few days. You’re holding back.”

Wilde bristles, a little incredulous. He was sure he hasn’t been _that_ obvious. “Well, don’t you want me to hold back?”

“No!” Zolf blurts out, and Wilde’s disbelief turns to utter confusion. Zolf, on the other hand, seems to have burned through the remainder of his anger on that one word, and now he deflates a little as he goes to sit on the bed. “No, no, I – not like that,” he says, his voice flat. “I just wish you didn’t have to hold back. Doesn’t feel fair.”

They’re both silent. Wilde sits down next to Zolf and puts an arm around his shoulders. Zolf leans into it heavily, like he’s exhausted.

“We can talk about it,” Wilde offers. “If you want to. But we don’t have to.”

Zolf shakes his head. “No, we do have to, Wilde. I haven’t been able to relax around you in days. Not cos I think you’re going to – do anything- obviously. I know you wouldn’t. Just wish I could be normal about it, you know?”

“I don’t care whether you’re normal,” Wilde says quickly, and he means it. “I care whether you’re comfortable. I care that you’re happy, Zolf. Just tell me what you need for that and I’ll give it to you.”

“Wish I bloody knew.” Zolf holds a hand out and Wilde takes it gently. “I’ve tried to be alright with it. Tried to be… you know. _Physical._ But I can’t deal with it, I can’t. It just made everyone involved miserable. But if we don’t, then you feel neglected and I feel bad about it, and then it doesn’t work anyway. Just feels - doomed.”

Wilde starts at that, and squeezes Zolf’s hand. He knows it’s no small thing for Zolf Smith to feel hopeless.

“Nothing’s doomed, Zolf,” he promises. “We can make this work. If we want to.”

Zolf doesn’t reply.

Wilde tries again. “Can I be honest with you?”

“I should hope you were being,” Zolf grumbles. His fingers tighten a little around Wilde’s hand.

“I made a – a bad joke, about tying me up,” Wilde says carefully. “It was poorly misjudged, and I’m sorry. But that’s what I’ve been caught up on. I can deal with that myself; I can find someone to help me deal with it, even on this ship I’m sure. But you don’t owe me anything, Zolf, so stop being so noble about it all.”

Wilde doesn’t know what he’s expecting Zolf to say in reply. Maybe to agree, to admonish him for making such a stupid comment the other day. Or, if he’s lucky, to crack a joke about just who on the ship might be willing to help. What Zolf does instead is sit back and say curiously, “It was a joke.” He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but there’s something searching in his expression, like he already knows, that makes Wilde break eye contact first and look down.

“It was a joke when I first said it,” he admits defensively.

To Wilde’s huge surprise, Zolf grins. A wide, beaming grin that fills his whole face, satisfied at being proven right. Wilde huffs, irritated, but at least the tension of the moment is broken. He gives Zolf a light shove and frowns at him. “I was apologising, don’t looks smug!” he grumbles lightly.

Zolf’s smile doesn’t falter. “No, but if you seriously want to… you know. Do it tied up. I’ll try that.”

“Will you?” Wilde asks incredulously.

Zolf only laughs at him. “S’alright, Wilde. I’m not bloody delicate, you know. I know I’m a bit – in my own head about this whole thing. And that’s my problem, and I’ll deal with it. But I still know what I’m okay with doing and what I’m not. And if you’re really okay with not touching me, don’t see why we shouldn’t give it a go.”

“It’s not that I’d _insist_ on touching you if I wasn’t tied up,” Wilde explains quickly. He doesn’t want Zolf to think that this is the only way, that he’s some kind of animal. “I do have some self-control, you know. I just think-”

“-we’ll both be more comfortable with a bit of security.” Zolf finishes with an understanding smile. “It’s okay. It’s not that I don’t trust you either. Course I bloody trust you. I’ve just got issues that won’t shut up most of the time, and who knows? Maybe this’ll keep ‘em quiet.”

Wilde grins. “Well, then. Zolf Smith, I think I’d rather like it if you were to tie me up and do things to me quite unfit for polite conversation.” He performs a flourishing, overly affected gesture with one hand. “Your turn.”

Zolf takes the hand offered to him like he’s about to be led to the dance floor. “Alright then, Mr Wilde. I think I’d enjoy the opportunity to try just that.”

There’s no guarantee that this will work. No guarantee that the two of them will fit together as comfortably as they want to, and even if this helps them fit in one place there’ll always be more to work on. But there’s hope in Zolf’s face as he stands, and that’s enough for Wilde.


	2. Chapter 2

Zolf squeezes Wilde’s hand once and then he’s all business, striding intently to Wilde’s trunk at the end of the bed and starting to rifle through it.

“Um – what are you-?” Wilde starts, before Zolf triumphantly pulls out a long, dark green necktie. Formal wear was not exactly high on his list of priorities for packing, but he still has a serviceable outfit or two in there. “Oh. I see.”

“For tying you up. I’m improvising a bit.” Zolf’s grin fades a little when he sees Wilde’s face. Wilde quickly rearranges his expression into something more enthusiastic, but Zolf isn’t convinced. “What’s up? Sorry, should I have asked before going through your stuff?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s fine,” Wilde says, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand awkwardly. “It’s just that – well, as we’re being perfectly candid with each other. I’d rather hoped you might have some rope to hand.”

Zolf shakes his head quickly, and Wilde is a little surprised at the strength of the reaction. “Rope burns,” he explains, absent-mindedly running the soft necktie between his fingers. “It’s rough, it’ll rub as you move. And I mean, if that’s… I know some people like that, and that’s fine. But maybe not this time, hmm?”

Wilde nods his agreement eagerly. He makes a mental note that they need to talk in more detail later about this sort of thing. Right now, though, he’s a little distracted by Zolf’s implied willingness for there to be a _next time_.

Wilde is _nervous_ , he realises suddenly. It’s not like he’s never been tied up before – goodness knows he’s been far more adventurous than they’d ever manage on this cramped airship. He’s not nervous that he won’t enjoy it, but that Zolf won’t. Zolf doesn’t want to get pleasure out of this, doesn’t want Wilde to touch him or make him feel good in the normal ways. But he must want _something_ , some sort of satisfaction that he hasn’t deigned to explain. As Zolf’s already said, he’s not fool enough to do something he doesn’t want to. Wilde only hopes he can provide.

If Zolf has any of the same worries, he doesn’t show them. He’s already crossing to the desk and pulling out the chair that was tucked under it. “Undress. Then sit,” he says briskly, and then seems to realise how sharp he was being, because he adds a slightly gentler, “please.”

Wilde decides the warmth coiling in his belly at being given an order like that by Zolf is something best examined after the fact, so he just says, “I would be delighted to,” and sets to work undressing himself. He doesn’t know for sure how much enjoyment Zolf gets out of seeing him strip, but Wilde is nothing if not a show-off, so he can’t resist swinging his hips and posing a little as he takes off his clothes. When he’s done with his performance, he looks back to see that Zolf is, firstly, shirtless, and secondly, staring at him intently.

“You are beautiful,” Zolf sighs, and there’s something wistful in his tone that makes Wilde’s chest ache even as the simple words make his cock stir. Zolf is stood behind the chair, necktie in hand, but when Wilde approaches, he doesn’t sit. He goes to Zolf instead, ducking his head and closing his eyes in a clear request for a kiss. Zolf complies happily.

Kissing is familiar for the two of them, but being naked is not (or at least, being naked like this. They’ve both done enough strip searches and inspections. This is different). As it is, Zolf is very pointedly not touching Wilde, keeping his arms at his sides, as if he’s worried that any light touch might be reciprocated in a way he doesn’t want. Wilde, for his part, keeps his hands firmly on Zolf’s shoulders, even pressing his fingertips in a little to make it clear he’s not moving them.

When they break the kiss, both of them are a little red and breathless. Wilde is starting to feel the chill of the cool air against his skin (they’re still a long way up, in the Northern Wastes, it’s really not warm enough for this) and Zolf has the necktie clutched in his hand so tight his knuckles are turning white. Wilde smiles and presses another quick kiss to Zolf’s cheek. “If you need to stop, or leave, it’s fine,” he promises. “Just try to untie me before you go, hmm?”

“You never know. Maybe I just want to leave you here for later,” Zolf says, but his grin says he’s joking. “Sit down, idiot.”

Wilde laughs and sits in the chair, putting his hands behind him and letting Zolf wind the tie around and between his wrists. It’s not the thick rope he’d imagined, but the knots are sturdy and tied with Zolf’s clever hands, so it’s wonderful in its own way. 

“Now, this is going to pull a bit on your shoulders,” Zolf says as he works, “but if it starts to hurt, you tell me right away. I’m pretty sure you’ve done this often enough to know where your limits are. I can always put you in a different position, something more comfortable. Hands in front of you or something.”

“You could have put my hands in front of me from the start,” Wilde points out, as Zolf pulls the last knot tight. Immediately Wilde tries to pull against his restraints, testing them. Not an inch of give. It’s perfect.

Zolf stands and walks round to stand in front of Wilde. “Well, guess I could have,” he concedes. He looks Wilde up and down, and there’s a gleam in his eyes and a warm smile on his lips. “But you are _really_ pretty like this.”

Wilde shudders at the praise and Zolf’s smile grows, turning sharkish and sly. He steps forwards, as close as he can, and leans in for another kiss. He still has to go on tiptoes a little to reach, and Wilde can’t lean forwards to make it easier because of his restraints. As Zolf’s lips touch his, Wilde can’t press closer or pull away teasingly. He can’t do anything but smile against Zolf’s mouth and gasp for breath when he moves away, and the helplessness thrills him.

Zolf looks very obviously more confident now his concern about being touched has been removed. His smile is almost smug and his hands smooth across Wilde’s shoulders and down his chest with a steady certainty he doesn’t normally have when they touch. “Now, sit nicely and I’ll take care of this, gorgeous,” he says. He trails a few teasing fingers across Wilde’s thigh and Wilde hisses through gritted teeth.

Zolf goes instantly from that light brush of fingers to a firm grip around the base of Wilde’s cock, and the hiss becomes a cry that Wilde can’t stifle. “Careful. Don’t want anyone to hear,” Zolf says with a devious grin, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes as he looks to the door and back to Wilde’s face.

“I’m fine,” Wilde says quickly, giving Zolf an encouraging nod. Not that he could really say anything else – that is _Zolf’s_ hand on his _cock_ ; whoever might walk through that door now is very much a secondary concern. “I’ll be quieter, if you’re worried.”

“Thank you,” Zolf says, and starts to move his hand.

Wilde shudders in his bindings – it feels like forever since he had someone else’s hand on him like this, and Zolf’s hand is large and rough and fantastic. Perhaps a bit too rough, but Zolf seems to realise quickly and stops stroking him for just long enough to slick his hand with his own spit before returning to his task. Wilde groans and Zolf chuckles. “Well, you being quiet lasted all of fifteen seconds.”

Wilde’s laugh is high and cracked, and he wants to hold Zolf in his arms so much. But being tied up is worth it for the renewed confidence in Zolf’s stance, his expression full of hunger and delight and carefully masked wonder that he is allowed to do this, that he is allowed to feel so secure and so trusted. Being tied up is also, Wilde remembers as he tugs against the rope again and feels no give whatsoever, full of its own advantages.

“You look amazing like this,” Zolf says, his voice low, his hand keeping steady pace on Wilde’s cock even when his eyes don’t leave Wilde’s face. Wilde lets his legs fall further open and his head tip back minutely against the back of the chair. “That’s it, let me see you. Stop pullin’ at the knots, they’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ve got you, gorgeous.”

Wilde nods and does as he’s told, his panting breaths becoming the only thing he can hear except for Zolf’s occasional muttered praises - he must have worked out how Wilde feels about being complimented when he’s like this, and he’s using it to his full advantage. They continue in this rhythm for a while, but Wilde is feeling greedy. He strains his shoulders and pushes his chest out as much as his bound wrists will allow (which isn’t much) and says, not as coherently as he’d like, “Zolf, could you – could you touch – just, please?”

Luckily, Zolf seems to understand, but he does frown a little before he reaches up and Wilde wonders if he’s asked too much. Zolf lays a hand flat against his chest, uncertain, but when he swipes it sideways and the rough skin of his palm catches Wilde’s nipple in a way that makes him moan, Zolf looks pleased and does it again. It’s an unpractised, clumsy motion, but it works.

Wilde grins a bit hysterically. “One day I’ll – I’ll show you how to do that properly. On me, I mean,” he adds quickly, before Zolf can get the wrong idea, but Zolf’s expression only gets more heated, and the hand between Wilde’s legs moves faster.

“Yeah? All tied up and you’re still giving me more ways to take you apart?” Zolf’s smile is practically predatory by now, and Wilde’s cock is leaking, his breath is coming harder and quicker, he’s not going to last much longer if Zolf keeps looking at him like that. “Maybe I could get used to this after all.”

Zolf leans up and kisses him again, and it’s messier this time. Wilde feels teeth pull at his bottom lip and Zolf’s tongue slip into his mouth. Zolf doesn’t seem to be aware of how filthy it is, but Wilde is on fire with every motion, burning hotter and hotter until finally Zolf’s mouth muffles the sound of Wilde’s shout as he comes.

The kiss becomes softer, less desperate, but Zolf’s hand doesn’t break its rhythm until Wilde is completely spent and squirming in a futile attempt to get away from the overstimulation. Zolf stops quickly when he realises, drops the smug act instantly, and wipes his hand clean on Wilde’s leg.

“How was that? Alright?” Zolf asks, a little nervous but smiling. Wilde replies with his own wobbly grin as he gets his breath back. “Here, I’ll untie you and get you cleaned up.” Zolf ducks behind Wilde’s back and quicky undoes the knot holding his hands in place. Wilde keeps them there anyway, clutching one wrist in the opposite hand, watching dreamily as Zolf returns with a magically dampened cloth, and those large, strong hands start to clean him with gentle care.

“You can move now, you know.” Zolf’s voice startles Wilde out of his reverie. “You… alright in there?” Zolf looks concerned, and Wilde does his best to pull himself together.

“Yes. Better than alright.” Wilde finally lets his arms drop back to his sides again. “That was… well, I enjoyed it. As you can tell.” He looks down at the mess he’s made with a smile, and Zolf chuckles. “Did you?”

“Yeah, actually. More ‘n I usually do. Here, you finish up.” Zolf drops the cloth in Wilde’s lap and goes to fetch his clothes for him. “You’d better get dressed quick, you’re gonna freeze otherwise.”

Wilde waits until Zolf isn’t looking before he lazily waves his hand. Both himself and the cloth are clean in an instant, and he drops it back into his trunk along with the abandoned necktie. “So,” he ventures nervously. “Would you like to stay this evening? There’s no pressure,” he adds hastily. “I know I’ve already asked a lot of you this evening.”

“I already said, you didn’t ask a bloody thing I wasn’t willing to give you.” Zolf bustles back across the small cabin and starts handing him clothes to put on. Wilde dutifully does so. “Actually, more than willing. Thanks. For… for doin’ it like that. With the…” Zolf puts his own hands behind his back briefly in demonstration, before handing Wilde his jacket. “It helped. I felt – well, I enjoyed it, alright? So, thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Wilde says, slipping into his clothes gratefully. “It’s hardly a chore, being tied up and doted on by a handsome man such as yourself.”

Zolf does that blush again, red rising from under his beard and reaching the tips of his ears. He loudly clears his throat, trying to ignore it, so Wilde doesn’t mention it either. “And yes. I’ll stay tonight. I might just nip off for a bit and deal with-” He looks down, and for the first time Wilde notices that Zolf is visibly turned on. “On my own. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Wilde puts in quickly.

“But I’ll come back. Sleep here. That’d be nice.”

He does. And it is.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first RQG fic I started writing, literal months ago, and Morgan and Amelie both asked to be informed if I ever finished it. Well, I finished it lads!! Between then and now I've been lucky enough to get to know you both better and you're both inspirational and a delight to know. I hope you enjoy this.


End file.
